


Destiny Pentober Day 21 - Boss Fight

by Legacy_Fireteam



Series: Destiny Pentober 2020 - Legacy Fireteam [21]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Festival of the Lost (Destiny), Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:53:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27185473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Legacy_Fireteam/pseuds/Legacy_Fireteam
Summary: Bishop-22 has to think fast and fight faster when he and a scouting team act on one of Felwinter's famous hunches, and in a turn of events expected by everyone involved, get much more than they bargained for.
Relationships: Exo Guardian & Human Guardian, Original Guardian & Original Ghost, Original Guardian & Original Warlord
Series: Destiny Pentober 2020 - Legacy Fireteam [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950664





	Destiny Pentober Day 21 - Boss Fight

# Boss Fight

###  _Written by Grayson_

  
He really hadn’t expected it to be so damn cold.  


The chill in the air was oppressive, dragging on every inch of his armor like a thousand tiny fingers, scratching against him and pulling back into the wind. Cold was one of the only things he could really feel, and it was unbelievably annoying that of all things,  _ that _ was what his senses had blessed him with in their dying throes.

This made Bishop more irritated than he already was when his ship’s transmat spat him out onto the island’s shores. The Iron Lords were right; ruins everywhere, but every few dozen feet, something nice and new, a refurbished piece of tech or relit lantern, lights dotting a path inward past towering structures that eclipsed the ground. This wasn’t just an abandoned area as they had originally thought. Felwinter had harbored his own suspicions for ages, and Gheleon’s scouts had been sent out ahead to survey the area. Bishop was to follow them, and confirm their findings before all reported back if necessary, and took action if possible. It was a cut-and-dry recon mission, and come on, when do those ever go exactly as planned?

As almost all of them had worried, but none had put to words, the scouts were late. Bishop had not been signaled for all of four hours, more than enough time for them to finish their sweep and head back with information. Bishop radioed Radegast as per his orders, and waited. 

The Iron Lord picked up after about a minute, his voice already tinged with frustration.  
“They didn’t return, did they? You’re early on your callback.”

“No, they didn’t. Permission to enter a possible combat zone?”

“Granted. Good luck, Bishop. Bring those men home, by which I mean prioritize their lives over whatever enemies may be hiding out there. We can always send a bigger group to deal with them.”

The Titan nodded, but he could hear the tone of Radegast’s voice and he knew that his commander was on the same page as he was. Those men were more likely to be found dead than alive, Risen or not. He clenched his fist over the radio, but stopped himself from breaking it. It’d be senseless violence, and it was highly likely there would soon be more than enough of that.

“I’m setting down a transmat beacon and going in. If you don’t hear from me in three hours, same as the scouts, use it to send in Felwinter and whatever fighting force you deem necessary. He knows these ruins, and has the maps to prove it. He’ll be able to guide them properly.”

Bishop switched off the radio and hefted his transmat beacon, slamming it down into the ground to his right in a cascade of dirt and rock.  _ There we have it _ , he thought to himself,  _ one speck of this rock is Iron Lord territory from here on out. _ As he slid on his helmet, weapons long since ready and loaded, he could only hope that meant something. That he wasn’t simply enabling more heroes to stride into a trap.

The chill had remained, and it was getting more and more annoying. The whole damn place was silent, save his own footsteps, their steady cadence of  _ crunch  _ biting through the quiet with every inch of ground he covered. There wasn’t any movement beyond his own. The only thing his surroundings had to offer was the cold, and Bishop wasn’t exactly feeling grateful. He tightened his grip on his auto and pressed forward. Everything around him had a regal hint to it; towering spires and structures piercing the sky itself, laid low by moss and rot just like everything else left of the “Golden Age” he had learned about on Nessus. He’d heard much from Skorri about the supposed wonder of this place, a former seat of commerce, ideas and people from all walks of life looking to change the world. There was once life here, vibrant and multifaceted life that thought, felt, loved and lived just like anything else. Looking now, the hollow corpse that was left gave him no feelings of wonder. It simply felt as cold as the wind it let flow through its skeleton, and besides, this trip wasn’t about sightseeing. He looked past the beauty, past the elegant dead, and searched for newer claims to the city’s lifeblood. It wasn’t long before he found what he was looking for, and he held his weapon close, scanning the pathway as lanterns stretched out before him every few feet. This was the way, clearly. Far too easy.

As he crept down the oath, weaving through gouged-out bus stops and collapsed storefronts, he finally heard a sound emanating from somewhere other than his shifting joints. A small noise, nothing more than a whisper, but more than enough for him to pick up in such dead silence. He followed it, breaking into a run as soon as he heard  _ speech  _ within the whispers, and it wasn’t long before one of Gheleon’s scouts came into view, lying in a softly spreading pool of blood. The wound in his chest and the shell of his Ghost shattered beside him sadly confirmed that the blood must have been his, and Bishop quickly knelt at his side, Hannibal materializing beside him and scanning over the body. The scour coughed weakly, his helmet lightly shunted off by the hands that were now bracing his torso up. He lay back against the closest wall, newly painted specks of crimson ichor dripping down the stone. It was too late for him, Bishop could see that. Hannibal’s silent confirmation was barely needed. The boy was young, no more than twenty, and the tan skin of his face ran red with blood and sweat. He almost looked rusted, like Bishop would have been, and the thought appalled the Titan as he stared into eyes that were as panicked as they were apologetic.

“Lie back, boy. Breathe easy, look at m- hey,  _ look at me. _ ”

Bishop took the young man’s face in his hand, holding their eye contact as the spark began to fade from his gaze.

“You haven’t failed anyone. It’s alright. Just breathe, and keep your eyes on mine.”

The boy stopped shifting, the last of his strength ebbing away as his hands fell limply to his sides. His mouth opened, struggling to speak, and as Bishop held him up, he forced out his final words, clinging to the momentum of his dying breath.

“Hostile...position..S-Silimar.”

Before the boy could even finish passing away, Bishop had already set him down and whirled around, aiming his auto above him and scanning the ruins for any sign of movement. Hannibal swiftly disappeared, safe and sound away from the danger as Bishop kept looking, his gaze intense and locked on any shifts in the rock and grime.

Hostile Position Silimar was a code, one that meant their enemy was above them and fortified. He caught the glint of the sight roughly half a second before the shot rang out, and swung his right arm up as hard as he possibly could, bracing himself for the impact that would come a split-second later. Come it did, the bullet screaming through the air like a thunderbolt and slamming into his forearm with a terrific  _ CRACK _ that shook the windows of every building in the area. His arm snapped back like a rubber band, and the bullet went careening off course into a pile of stone close by, throwing up dust and granite shards as it found its home. His eyes flew to the direction of the shot, laying down cover fire with his auto as he dashed over to cover. Another shot whizzed past his head, but his bullets found their mark in the same fashion as his opponent’s, and the cloud of concrete dust made an accurate sniper shot impossible.

Bishop reloaded and readied his next move, but before he could come back out into the line of fire, a voice cried out from the other side of the clearing.

“Bishop-22?!”   
The voice was followed by a pronounced  _ thump _ , and as he looked over his cover, Bishop saw a figure come into a view; a woman, well-built and well-armored, looking like a Risen from the quality and size of the weapon. He stood warily and kept his eyes on her.    
“Who wants to know?”

The woman grinned, bracing her sniper against her shoulder and keeping a casual aim on his breastplate, gentle rays of the midday sunshine shining off his armor and the sight in equal measure.

“Oh, you’ve heard of me, Iron Lord. Name’s Altec. Altec Obreshkov.”

“You’re right, I certainly have. Heard much about you, actually. ‘White-Hot Killer’ is what I think they’ve been calling you. Gave Saladin some trouble when we went to find the Red Moon Phantom, if I remember correctly.”

Altec laughed, keeping her gaze locked on Bishop as the two began to circle each other, weapons at the ready.   
“Given you freaks a lot more trouble than that,  _ your Lordship, _ ” she said with a mocking tone. “Heard Felwinter damn near lost his mind trying to track my assaults on his outposts back in Old Russia. Good to drive that pompous jerk as nuts as possible, I suppose.”

Bishop glared across at her.

“You don’t rate Felwinter’s attention, Warlord. All you have here is me. And if you killed this man, I’ll be the last thing you see for the rest of your miserable life.”

“So hostile so fast! I suppose it’s to be expected, since I whacked your scouts. Probably thrown Radegast’s plan for a loop, oh he’ll be  _ deliciously  _ ripshit pissed…”

Altec dropped her sniper, coming to a halt at the apex of their circle and grinning happily at Bishop.

“Bet killing his favorite new Iron Lord would piss him off even more, though.”

Bishop watched as the woman in front of him burst into flames, the clearing immediately enveloped in light and heat so blinding it nearly pushed him back with its presence alone. In another second she was upon him, gripping his arm like a vise with all that heat right in his face, unable to see anything but the light and feel anything but fingers like magma. His auto melted like it was made of butter, and his armor turned hotter than hell. Cloth burnt off his body, metal slagged and slumped in bits and pieces, falling from his shoulders like marshmallow chaff. He could hear Altec laughing, enjoying every second.

“Say hello to Felwinter for me, will you? You’re both going to hell, that’s for certain, and I’m sure he’d appreciate knowing someone else got killed  _ FIRS-” _

Her boast was interrupted by a blow that shook her to the core, her body flung backwards and the heat all around her lessening as she skidded to a stop, still on her feet but very much rattled by the impact. She shot her eyes up as fast as she could, barely meeting another blow with the palm of her hand, holding back Bishop’s arm with all her strength. The Titan’s helmet had all but burned off, so his eyes were visible as could be and filled with a certain malice. Altec felt herself go from an enemy to a target, and she knew that the situation had changed.

“How...how are you not burned? How are you _ still alive, damnit?!?” _

Bishop grinned, lighting crackling across his shoulders and into his hands as he pushed, steady as could be, back against Altec’s grip, leveling their hands between them and keeping his eyes locked on hers. The electricity sang along his metal frame, jolting against the flames and locking a battle of heat against heat, and both Titans stood their ground. Only one had suddenly begun to feel very, very afraid.

Bishop was a happy man. He had been looking for a chance like this.

This was going to be a hell of a fight.


End file.
